The Maternal Struggle
by sarahhaa
Summary: Mary struggles to understand her youngest son and an imploding marriage and learns some valuable things along the way.
1. Chapter 1

The young and blissful couple married for four short years was giddy with anticipation. They were about to become parents of three. At seven and a half months pregnant, Mary could hardly walk, but she was determined to buy all her infant provisions before the babies made their debut. She drug George and George, Jr. to the local K-Mart, becoming more panicky with each aisle they passed through. They had just passed through the newborn apparel and were now making their way to the grocery section.

"George, I don't wanna miss something! We had _nothin'_ for Georgie when he was born, and now we have two comin'. I'm not prepared at all! What kind of mother am I?!" She threw several cases of Coke and Dr. Pepper into their cart, exhaling loudly and letting the tears fall down her cheeks.

"Mary, don't you think you're bein' a little ridiculous? We have everything we need."

He grabbed two infant bathrobes from out of her hand, "Honestly, bathrobes? They ain't gonna walk around the house in these blasted things after their bath time. Put 'em back. Oh, and you're a wonderful mom already." He rubbed her back and gave her a reassuring smile, trying to soothe her into reason.

"You really think so George?"

"Mary, you're the most excitin' gal and most perfect momma I ever stumbled on. You're always dotin' over Georgie. You're always worryin' about him, always wakin' up just to see him smile in his sleep. You know when you're readin' him those bedtime stories and he cuddles up in your lap and you give him that special look with those twinklin' blue eyes like you're sharin' some special secret? When you squeeze his cheeks and ruffle his hair and scoop him up to sing silly songs to him? When he fell and scraped his knee last Thanksgiving and you knew just the perfect thing to say to make it better? When he was more sad than I've ever seen a boy in his life 'cause his lil' froggy, you know, that one under our porch, died an' you made him that special pie to cheer him up? These twins are the luckiest little ones this world's got. You were meant for this." He pulled her in by her waist gently and pressed his lips to hers without taking his eyes off of her, letting her know everything would be okay. They were doing this together, and she would be perfect. She pulled away and blushed. "George…" He started kissing her again, this time teasingly all over her face, peppering her nose and cheeks and eyelids with quick pecks. She giggled and smacked his chest, face still damp from her tears. "Stop it! We're in public!" She returned her attention to the soda display and used the back of her hand to wipe her tears.

"Now, I beg of you, _please_ stop cryin', you're gettin' yourself all worked up for nothin'. And for Christ's sake, Mary," he grabbed her away from the Coke stand, "stop heavin' those cases in the buggy like that! You're gonna hurt yourself!" Just as Mary turned to their cart and dropped the fourth case of Mountain Dew in, she fell to her knees and gasped loudly. "OH LORD!" She panted, holding her large stomach and using her other arm to steady herself against the Coke display. "OH LORD. OH GOD. AUGGHHH!"

"Oh my God, Mary, what's wrong?"

She looked over at George, who had leant down to assist her, a deep penetrating glare in her eyes. Through gritted teeth she replied, "I musta started labor, you fool. Get someone to help me!"

Suddenly the whole store stopped to stare at the scene unfolding before them. George stood back up and yelled, feet grounded to his spot, for someone to help his wife. "SOMEONE HELP HER!" He pointed down at Mary, more panicked than he'd ever been in his whole life. "THE MISSUS IS 'BOUT TO GIVE BIRTH OVER HERE! YOO HOO! THERE GOTTA BE A NURSE IN HERE SOMEWHERE! DON'T MAKE ME CHECK ALL YA'LL FOR WORK BADGES!," he said, gesturing around the store and waving an accusatory finger. Mary looked up and for once was glad for her husband's sometimes flaring temper. Despite her pain, she felt the need to suppress a giggle that was fighting to escape her lips. She did need help, badly, and she was grateful for a husband who was so dutifully worried over her.

After several awkward and tense minutes passed with no volunteer, a slight looking woman of approximately thirty years with small wire-rimmed glasses and sandy blonde hair stepped forward. "Uhh…," she said, clearing her throat, "I'm a n-nurse practitioner, sir. I might be able to assist ya'll. I'm not licensed to birth babies and I just got off work and came here to pick up some snacks, gosh, I don't even-"

"Well don't just stand there makin' small talk, help her!"

"Oh, um…right, yessir…," she nodded nervously several times in a row, and stooped down to Mary who was now breathing raggedly and whimpering simultaneously. "Miss, my name is Carolyn, I'm gonna try and help you get to a hospital, okay? Just try 'n stay calm, breathe deep. I probably shouldn't tell you this was my first week at this job. In fact, I'm sorry I just did. That surely wasn't helpful at all." She shook her head at herself, annoyed at her behavior, but continued. Mary and George gave each other a knowing look. "I'll do my best, I swear. Now let's try and see if we can sit you up more proper."

Carolyn used her right arm to support Mary's back and with her left arm thrust her back into a sitting position. Mary winced and glanced over at George and her 3-year-old son. "Take… Georgie…to his Meemaw's." It was becoming harder to breathe, harder to speak, and harder to rationalize the events going on. _This is not happening_, she thought.

"Mary, don't be dumb. I'm not gonna leave you. He's fine. I need to be here. I ain't gonna miss this-"

He was cut off by his wife practically yelling at him, desperate for some grasp of control.

"GEORGE STANLEY COOPER! Take our son to Meemaw's, NOW. I'll be _fine_.", she declared emphatically.

"Carolyn's gonna get me to Lawrence Memorial, ain't that right, miss? Then you can go there and meet me after you drop our baby off. I can probably try standin'…" She took a deep breath and continued, "C'mon, help me up.", she said to Carolyn. George shook his head frustrated but refused to move.

Carolyn wasn't about to argue with this woman, though she knew Mary wasn't as confident as she was trying to let on. She stood up first and holding Mary's arms guided the pregnant woman up onto her swollen feet. "That okay, miss?"

The pressure was too much. There was painful throbbing between her legs, tears falling out of her eyes, K-Mart patrons gawking at her refusing to continue on with their routines, a husband who would not listen, and worst of all, a toddler who was becoming very worried about his mom's current state of being and she felt helpless to calm him down.

Carolyn belted, "Okay, that's it. Someone call an ambulance!" She panicked and ran her fingers through her hair, praying she would figure out the right thing to do or say.

A middle aged woman ran to the nearest register and demanded to use the phone to call an ambulance. Running back to Carolyn, Mary, and George, she told them one would be on the way shortly.

"Momma, what's wrong?", George, Jr. asked innocently. "Here—take boopy!" He offered her his favorite blanket covered in drool and cheese dust.

"Shh…not now Georgie!" George, Sr. raised his index finger to his puckered lips to tell his son to quiet down.

"Fine! Boopy mine!" He pouted, sticking his lower lip out as far as it could go and folding his chubby arms across his chest for emphasis.

"Yes, baby, you can keep your boopy. Daddy's gonna take you to Meemaw's now for some ice cream and playtime, ain't that right, George?" She said his name so ferociously he shivered and for a moment considered simply obeying her ludicrous demands. It was becoming impossible for either one to stay calm. After the thought of having newborns delivered without him there, he quickly shook the consideration from mind and stood his ground.

"No, Mary, now you listen here. This ain't s'posed to happen like this! I'm gonna make sure we get you to a hospital, and that means me stayin' here with you, and with this nice Carolyn lady 'til that ambulance comes. Now stop pesterin' me to do somethin' that don't make no sense in the first place! Just stop bein' so damn stubborn!"

Suddenly a gush of liquid came out from between Mary's legs, and she knew she was done for. "Oh, God! Why me? Why now? Why here?" George instantly regretted his harsh words. "Oh, Mary…" he rushed to her side and held her so she wouldn't sway backwards. "I'm sorry, baby…we're gonna get you through this. I won't leave your side.", he said as he brushed her bangs aside.

"Someone get some towels and, hey-!", she gestured to the group of horrified employees, "One o' you employees need to get a first aid kit! It's happening! We can't wait for that ambulance no longer!"

The same middle aged woman who dialed the ambulance ran to the Bed & Bath section and retrieved a set of plush cherry colored towels. She shoved them toward Carolyn and went back to her position watching the show unfold before her. Not long after, one of the employees sheepishly returned to Carolyn with the store's pathetic excuse for a first aid kit. She rifled through it quickly and noted different sized bandages, Neosporin, rubbing alcohol, and one pair of tweezers. "Oh. Of course. Absolutely useless." She tossed the whole kit across the aisle in aggravation and started laying down towels for Mary to lie on. She turned to face the crowd of shocked shoppers and yelled, "YA'LL CAN MOVE ALONG NOW! WE GOT THIS! No need to keep starin'!" The crowd shuffled about and eventually dissipated after several minutes. Mary whispered a "thank you" to Carolyn for her help and her renewed "privacy", little as it was.

"Okay, Mary, I honestly have no idea how to tell how much you're dilated, I'm not an OBGYN. But you just gotta trust me, mmkay? _Gotta trust myself…_" She muttered the last part to herself as she helped Mary down onto the thick layer of towels. "I need you to breathe regularly, just try. I gotta try to get a look at you…down there." She cleared her throat, indicating to the Coopers just how nervous and inexperienced she really was. Mary couldn't fault her for trying, though. "Just stay still." She pulled Mary's sundress up to her knees and pulling her underwear aside, noticed a tuft of wet brown hair crowning, ready to come out. "Oh my God, miss, it's comin'! Your baby, it's comin' out now! _Didn't you feel it?!_" Realizing that might not be the most supportive thing to say, Carolyn added, "I'm sorry. You ready to push now? It's almost out; it's almost here!" She'd hope that would be encouraging to the young mom.

Mary nodded weakly at Carolyn's second question and decided she best just got for it. She clenched, bending her abdomen muscles and leaning forward. "AGGGHHHH!"

_Oh Lord…it's really happening, _George thought to himself, pacing back and forth beside his wife with his son in one arm. _My wife is givin' birth in a K-Mart…_

Puffing for air, Mary began to push again. "The head is out! Great job…keep going! Your baby is almost here!"

"THERE'S …TWWOOO…nnnngahh!"

Carolyn looked at the young woman gob smacked. She shook her head in disbelief at how her day had turned out. _I just came here for some Oreos…_

"Wha-…two…?" she said, fearful and worried for this poor woman she was helping to give birth in a retail store on cold linoleum.

"Yes. Two babies, _Carolyn_. We're having twins." George's response was dripping with exasperation.

"Okay…" She got back to work instructing Mary to push again.

A third time she pushed with more vehemence than ever, and with one last scream, her first baby was there. Carolyn used another towel to cup underneath the baby as she finished coaxing it out. "IT'S A GIRL!" She passed the baby girl off to George instantly, who had put George, Jr. back into the cart to free his arms and accommodate his new arrival. George worked on wiping his new daughter clean while Mary prepared for the next twin.

"Okay, you gotta do this again. You ready?"

Mary looked deep into Carolyn's eyes and nodded, scared but so glad for this stranger's help. She leant forward, teeth clenched together, eyes squeezed shut, and pushed. Carolyn counted to 10 and had Mary stop. After a few more seconds of rest, she repeated the action. Nothing. Mary had never felt this exhausted in her life. She pushed again, and again, puffing and clenching and panting loudly.

"C'mon you son of gun!", George said while holding his daughter tightly and never taking his eyes off his wife.

"Okay, Mary, keep going, I know this sucks but you're almost there. Let's try 'n push real long and hard this time. Breathe in deep, then breathe out and push at the same time when I say 'go'.

Okay….GO!"

With Carolyn's orders, Mary pushed harder than she had ever done before, and longer, too. She concentrated on knowing she'd be holding her babies soon, she thought of no longer being pregnant and waddling around like a duck, she thought of getting her figure back (a peripheral thought, but certainly a goal), she thought of her family: her supportive husband, her cuddly and goofy toddler, and her new twins, soon to join the Coopers in their small but cozy home. Their cozy life. After releasing the hold on her muscles and breaking for a few seconds, Carolyn told Mary the baby's shoulders were out.

"All you've got left is the legs, that's just one push. On 3…2…1…GO!"

Mary thrust forward again, finally releasing the wailing infant from her. Carolyn wrapped the second infant into a towel and rubbed him clean but not before declaring to Mary and George, "IT'S A BOY!"

She gently placed the boy onto Mary's bare stomach. "Congratulations! You did it. Your babies are beautiful, miss." She gave the couple a pleasant smile and began to clean the area around her while they waited for the professionals.

Not seconds later, the sirens from the ambulance could be heard pulling up in the K-Mart parking lot. Carolyn left the family to run and tell the crew about what had happened. She came back to the scene with two EMTs and a stretcher. They instructed George to take both infants onto his chest while they pulled Mary up onto the stretcher and wheeled her outside to the truck. While they were pulling Mary inside the truck, she clasped Carolyn's hand and thanked her again for all her help. "I know one person she'll be addin' to our Christmas card list!" George responded with a wink. Once Mary was on the ambulance, the two EMTs took one infant each from George. They clamped the umbilical cords and cut each one, freeing the babies from their messy afterbirths. They began cleaning each infant with extra care, wiping each toe, ear, and finger, and suctioning their noses clean, drying them properly. They wrapped them tightly in receiving blankets and handed them off to another EMT so they could work on attending to Mary.

The drive to the hospital was short. Before she knew what was going on, Mary was admitted and in a bed in the ER. The attending nurse checked all her vitals, and she was determined by the nurse to be in great health, considering the circumstances of the past hour. "We'll need to keep you here for a few hours to monitor you, ma'am, then we can transfer you to Labor & Delivery."

"I wanna see my babies. Where are they?"

"They're up in the NICU, miss. Not only being twins, but having such a stressful birthing process for them and delivering two weeks earlier than most women with multiples, they need to be monitored for a little while as well. They'll be fine, but their bodies are a little bit in shock right now. You'll get to hold them in a few hours. Try and get some rest now, okay? Your husband and your son just left a few minutes ago to check on them, said he'd be back soon to stay with you."

Mary nodded reluctantly and despite feeling more exhausted than she'd surely ever felt in her life, she couldn't sleep. She waited for George.

* * *

When she first laid eyes on them properly, she was met with an overwhelming sensation of pure love and devotion; the love only a mother knows; the devotion she hoped she would always be able to provide to them.

"Well, we gotta pick out names now. What do you think? I like Megan for our little girl….or what about Crystal?" Her eyes lit up at the second suggestion, indicating it to be her preference.

George lifted one eyebrow and George, Jr. copied his father, only he also had his hands on his hips. They gave Mary a look that said everything without saying anything at all.

"Ew!" George, Jr. said.

"No and definitely no. How 'bout Melissa for the girl? We can call her Missy. Melissa Mae…after Meemaw?"

"I like that. Melissa Mae it is. Missy…" Mary smiled broadly and pronounced the name slowly, letting it sink in. "What about our baby boy? I like Eric…or Sheldon. Those're both good, strong names."

"Definitely NOT Eric. You know I can't stand that Eric Alves at the plant. He's nothin' but slime, always runnin' 'round on his woman and tryin' to get outta doin' a dang thing at work. Ew's right on thatta one, too, ain't that right, Georgie?"

"EWWW!" Georgie drew out the sound of the word for a good 3 seconds, his toddler-Texan drawl permeating the confines of the room.

"Fine, not Eric…what about Sheldon? Sheldon Lee sounds nice together! After your dad."

George couldn't tell his wife he didn't like the name Sheldon. Not one bit. He knew of no one named Sheldon, he had no good excuse to dismiss the name so readily…and he did get to have the final pick on Missy…

Looking at her hopeful smile and knowing he'd regret being so kind-hearted on name-giving, George finally relented. "Fine…Sheldon Lee it is." He practiced saying the name in his head. _My little man…Shelly. Oh, God. What did I let her do?_ _Okay, I'll stick with Sheldon. It's just a name._ He forced a smile and told himself to never let her know how ridiculous the name Sheldon was.

* * *

Returning their attention to the newborns, they looked down at Missy, who gurgled and grasped at Mary adoringly. Turning towards Sheldon, they saw him nuzzle in closer to her, wriggling about for a position in which to better hear his mother's soothing heartbeat. She felt an instinctual desire to whisper her favorite childhood lullaby to her twins. "I'm gonna sing you a song now that my momma used to sing to me when I was sick. I know you're not sick now, but you're brand new to this world, and that's pretty scary." Rocking them in sync and kissing their tiny noses, she sang softly and slowly, "…soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur…happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr." She repeated the song twice after that. Within minutes, the twins were asleep, little hands limply covering their faces. Mary tossed her damp head back onto the hospital bed, overwhelmed and worn out with everything that had happened in the past few hours. She fell asleep almost instantly.

A half hour later, she was woken by a callused hand nudging her arm and three sets of eyes staring down at her. "Mary, wake up. The nurse here-," he gestured with his thumb towards the young woman in the Sesame Street scrubs, "…she said you gotta try feedin' the babies now." Mary nodded nervously, agreeing with the nurse's logic but unsure how to proceed with two infants. The nurse suggested trying one infant at a time for now, considering her fatigue. Two babies at a time could come later. She handed Sheldon to George and positioned Missy at her right breast, showing the infant where to latch. She struggled at first, getting frustrated with her hunger, but after about 20 minutes of searching, she latched on. Once Missy stopped feeding, Mary switched twins with her husband and held Sheldon at her other breast. He latched on immediately, hungrily, eyeing his mother, the only thing that mattered in the universe right then, the warmth of her skin and the comfort of her heartbeat and gentle voice causing his eyelids to droop. The room was silent except for Sheldon's gentle suckling noises and a few hiccups from Missy. "They're perfect. We're complete now." Mary said.

George pulled a seat next to Mary's right side and grabbed her delicate hand with his free arm, rubbing the top of it with his rough thumb. "I love you, Mary—so much. Don't you ever forget that. And I love you, Missy, and I love you, Sheldon, and I love you too, Georgie." He ended each declaration with a peck on each one of their foreheads and ruffled his older son's hair. Mary looked over at her husband and smiled, contented with her family, happy and whole. "I love you, too, George."

_I love you, Mary. Don't you ever forget that. _

_I love you, Mary. Don't you ever forget that. _

_I love you, Mary. Don't you ever forget that. _

The words rang out in her head, spinning in circles and repeating themselves over and over, taunting her cruelly. She sprang up from her bed, sucking in a gulp of air, her skin hot and pajamas pasted to her clammy skin. Reality finally striking her, she stared down into her lap and solemnly whispered, "You lied to me."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter! I'm so sorry this took forever to get up; I got serious writer's block. Anywho, this next chapter has some pretty mature content, so I apologize in advance if it offends anybody. I felt that it was a realistic way to explain Mary's personal struggle at this point in her life. However, I can assure you it will only be in the story once, which is here. That's not what this fic is about; just wanted to give everyone a fair warning. Hopefully it won't discourage anyone from reading. Also, I promise Sheldon will be in the next chapter. :) Thanks again for reading!**

Mary glanced over at the clock; it was 3:24 in the morning. She lay back down and rolled onto her left side, eyes glued to the empty spot next to her. Pulling her covers up to her nose, she allowed herself to daydream. She thought about that day often. It was simply one of the strangest days of her life, but she looked on it with great fondness. She would dream of different moments from the day Missy and Sheldon were born: the way George never left her side, especially in the most hectic of moments; the sweet smell of her babies' hair; feeding them for the first time; and just before being jolted awake, George telling her that he loved her. It was one of the last days she felt completely happy with her life.

* * *

She and George fell in love high school. She had had other boyfriends, but none of them compared to him. He protected her fiercely. He was a jealous and temperamental and passionate man, but she thought he simply wanted to guard her from harm, to let others know she belonged to him. He had swept her off her feet at the time. He knew he could always show her a good time by taking her for a cruise in his 1969 Ford Thunderbird and never forgetting to bring along her favorite alcohol, strawberry wine. Indeed, he was right. She was a won prize. It was young love at its finest.

They decided to marry at the age of twenty and were forced to live with Mary's mom for two years while George worked two jobs and Mary stayed home with George, Jr., who was born exactly nine months after their wedding. They were finally able to move into a small yellow house when they were both twenty-two, with the help of Mary's mom once again. George quit one job after a promotion at the plastics manufacturing plant. Things were really starting to look up for the couple. When she became pregnant with the twins, she truly believed she was living some version of the American Dream. Sure, money was tight and they were too young for many people to take them seriously out in the real world, but it was what they both agreed they wanted at the time. She loved her family with her whole heart. Every moment was invested in making sure she pleased her husband and protected her three babies.

As for George physically, he was perfect. He was tall and slim, shaggy chestnut hair, and slate blue eyes that frequently penetrated her deep blue ones with the unmistakable look of desire and lust. _And oh, his lips!_ His bottom lip would stick out slightly, pouty, like it was constantly inviting her to nibble on it. His smile was crooked, and it crept up at the least convenient times, causing her to blush so intensely she had to distract herself from him so as not to give in so easily. She could've dreamt of his features all day had she allowed herself. She couldn't though; not anymore. Things were different now. It was the third night in a row that George hadn't slept in their bed. His spot was cold, no imprint of his body, no indication that she had with her a mate to share her nights. She had no idea where he was, and running through the worst possible scenarios, a lump grew in her throat and her body began to quiver. _Please be okay, George. _She refused to believe that he was doing the things he always judged other men for doing. _He told me he would never leave me. He would never cheat. _No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn't escape the thought that that very thing might be true. She had no evidence, and bringing it up would only cause things to become more awkward. He would accuse her of not trusting him.

George had started leaving randomly almost immediately after Missy and Sheldon were born, always giving some sort of excuse about working late, having to help a co-worker jump start his car, and most recently telling her he simply needed to unwind with the guys at the bar. He began drinking heavily after the twins were born. He always did like his beer, but now it was becoming his best friend. She hated it. She despised the vile smell of fermented hops and wheat escaping his lips every time he opened his mouth.

He was becoming dispassionate towards his own family, and more specifically towards Sheldon. Three children were too much for him, it was too much stress, too much responsibility, especially when one of them was as special as their baby boy. His relationship with George, Jr. and Missy wasn't nearly as strained, he never berated them or called them unjustified names, but she knew they were blinded by the innocence and eternal optimism that childhood shielded them with. He couldn't handle the demands of fatherhood. He was there when it was convenient for him, including most dinnertimes and having a couch to sit on for the occasional football game on Sundays.

When they had married, she thought she knew what he wanted; what they wanted as a couple. He had told her so himself. She knew now, lying alone in her cold bed how very wrong she was. George was coasting by as a father. Present physically, but never emotionally. It was as if trying to raise George, Jr. alone was his limit; he had lost the ability to cope, to feel, to think, to emote. He was a coward, he couldn't even talk to Sheldon without curling his lips distastefully or whispering _"freak…"_ at something Sheldon would do or say. He would pretend to say it jokingly, but Mary knew he meant it. It made her stomach churn. It made her so angry to hear the man she thought she was madly in love with talk about their tiny boy that way. _He really thought it. How could he suddenly become so cold and distant? What happened to the George I fell in love with?_

Turning her thoughts towards their youngest child, Mary realized with deepening sadness that she didn't understand Sheldon either. She loved him more than life itself, but she couldn't begin to understand how his brain functioned. It scared her. She had no idea what he was thinking or whether or not he was happy. It broke her heart to see him playing in his room by himself, talking to his toys as if they were his friends, or as she heard him call them, his "colleagues." She tried to engage him and get him to play with Missy and Georgie, but he wasn't interested. He would always reply with the strangest things, saying, "I'm working on physics," or "This time machine won't build itself, mommy!" She assumed he learned those things from Sesame Street…_it is quite educational, _she mused. At first his comments were simply that: strange. Then she started to become more concerned when she noticed a pattern of behavior that was simply bizarre for a toddler. Sheldon was becoming grandiose in his attitude towards others. Sure, he was smarter than all the other toddlers his age, but he didn't need to go around telling everyone about it! He always had to prove Missy wrong, or tell the kids in his church's preschool they weren't having fun right. He believed he was superior to his siblings and everyone else; he even referred to himself as a "Homo Novus" one time, which really confused Mary. _Homo what?!_ Everything he did followed a pattern or a schedule. He lined his toys up on his bookshelf alphabetically by manufacturer; he set up his own clothes on his toy trunk the day before, rotating each shirt so they got equal wear; he always had to have Mary read him the story of The Monkey and the Princess before bed with a glass of warm milk. His eyes lit up and he smiled up at her every time, his bright blue eyes sparkling with glee when she mentioned Princess Panchali and her out-of-this-world beauty. He was sensitive and very possessive of the time he got to spend with Mary. He'd cling to her or curl into a tight ball in her lap one minute, but hide in his room with his trains and fancy science toys the next. She didn't know if it was possible for a two-year-old to be depressed or bi-polar, but she was determined to do something about it. Despite George's feelings, or lack thereof, she was going to make sure Sheldon was happy and healthy. She decided she would bring up the issue with him as soon as possible.

A jiggle of her and George's bedroom doorknob jolted her, and abandoning her reverie she sat up, her heart beat rapidly when she saw George stumble through the bedroom. He threw off this leather jacket and sauntered over to her side of the bed. "Heeeyy baby…," he whispered the slurred words into her ear with his hot breath. _He's drunk. _

"Hi, George. You're drunk." Her accent became more prominent when sleep eluded her.

"I'm not drunk! But I am horny." He drew a single finger down the center of her chest, stopping at the center between her breasts and poking the spot for emphasis. "Take that silly shirt off."

"George, I'm not in the mood. Just go to sleep please." She lay back down and pulled the covers over her once again, curling onto her side. Obviously tonight was not the night to bring up Sheldon's behavior.

"Fine. I'll take it off for you. I like a challenge." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and pulled her up roughly by her arm, starting to unbutton her pajama top. She gulped and diverted her eyes. She couldn't look at him. _Three nights alone and now this?_

"George, please…", she whispered with a crack in her voice, "not now. Maybe tomorrow…" _Don't cry, Mary._ Her eyes betrayed her wishes as tears started to fall freely from them. _Damn it. _

"Aw, don't you go cryin' now, baby. I'm gonna make you feel all sorts o' better…" He was kneeling down in front of her now, murmuring drunkenly into the crook of her neck. He finished with the buttons and pushed the shirt down, causing Mary to shiver at the exposure. "Take my shirt off now." Tentatively, she brought her slender fingers to the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his chest, then off his head. She watched through tear-filled eyes as his beautiful blue orbs trailed over her breasts, watching them lift naturally when she pulled his shirt off. "Now that's what I'm talkin 'bout." He flashed her that horrible, beautiful, crooked smile and mentally slapped herself for enjoying it. "Look at that cute little roll. Better stop makin' so much fried chicken." She was horrified. He squeezed the baby fat on her stomach and then proceeded to dive into her breasts, sloppily licking and slurping and biting each nipple in a frenzy. There was nothing romantic about it. She groaned in protest and bit her lip uncomfortably, recoiling inward to prevent him from further oral abuse, but he took her noises as a sign to continue. "I knew you'd like that." He started sucking harder, causing light bruises to surface all over her chest. She was frozen. Her legs felt like Jell-O, her heart was beating out of her chest, and the lump in her throat was growing to the size of a baseball. She was sick to her stomach; she wanted to hate him so much, but this was her husband. Everything was okay. Affection is affection, right? _Wrong_, her conscience chastised her.

"Let me help you with those pants." He pulled her into a standing position and roughly tugged them down to her ankles along with her underwear. "Much better…my, my, what a view…" He said ever so slowly, his lips now directly in front of her heat. He licked them, causing the bottom lip to glisten with saliva. She felt every syllable of his beer-drenched words drown into her center, causing her to inadvertently become wet. _Please don't do it. _It would be too much. As if reading her mind, he got up from off his knees and spun her around so her back was against him. "Get on your hands and knees." His voice was sterner now but still very much slurred. He used one finger to tap her into place.

Mary felt so mortified, but she told herself she had to try to enjoy this; no matter what her conscience told her, she would love this man until the day she died. She would try. She obediently positioned herself for him to enter. Callused hands holding tightly onto her hips, George thrust forward and entered his wife. She gasped loudly, throwing her head back, to which George commanded with a spank on her ass and sudden concern for their children, "Shh! Our babies're sleepin'." He used his hands to move her hips and ass, driving in and out of her faster and harder than ever, until Mary was whimpering with the sounds of unfathomable pleasure. Removing his right hand from her hips, he traced along the lines of the right side of her body, grasping a clump of hair and pulling her up against him. He whispered into her ear while tracing circles around her hardened nipples, his Texan accent thicker than ever, "You sure feel good, sugar pie," and with one last rough plunge into her slick warmth, he met his release. Turning towards him, she began feverishly kissing his neck and collarbone, making the effort to be thankful, but he was no longer interested. He crawled over to his side of the bed and passed out.

She sighed inwardly and pulled her bottoms back up and buttoned her shirt over her tender skin. She looked at the clock; it was now 5:45 in the morning. There was no use trying to go back to sleep. She tiptoed into the hall bathroom and threw her unkempt hair into a scrunchie. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw disappointed and saddened eyes, darkened with exhaustion, staring back at her, wondering what had happened with her life. For the second time so early in her day, she broke down. Sitting on the lid of the toilet seat with her head bowed in her hands, she cried and allowed herself to shake violently; she felt guilty for George leaving. _Is there something wrong with me? _She pinched her stomach hard, grimacing at his earlier remarks and at the pain she was now causing cried because she was being weak. _Mom would be so disappointed; I'm not the same Mary she raised me to be. _She cried because she was alone on this endeavor. She struggled getting up in the morning and plastering a smile on her face for her kids, washing faces, brushing their hair, feeding them three square meals a day, comforting them, telling them stories…she felt like a single mother. Loneliness was her new companion. Her children were starting to notice things weren't normal. "_Where's daddy, mommy? He's missin' his favorite meal!" _George, Jr. would say with his innocent toothless grin, smacking his lips heartily and rubbing his pudgy stomach to indicate how great it was. Missy was clueless, but then again, she was only two years old…a _typical_ two years old. She was starting to think Sheldon knew what was going on, because he always cast his eyes over to her when someone referenced his absence, and quickly looked down into his lap as if he knew it was his fault and he were about to be reprimanded. Mary would never let any of her children think it was their fault. There was nothing anyone could do other than hope George would turn things around for himself. She wiped the tears from her sore and stinging eyes and sighed loudly and deeply, one last time. Forcing her body to move from the bathroom, she told herself to be strong. She had no other choice. She couldn't and wouldn't allow herself to have a meltdown in front of her children, to let them see that their mother was unhappy. She could cry herself to sleep at night, but during the day she had to stay strong. Especially for Sheldon.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks again to all who read and reviewed the last chapter and those who are following this story! I really appreciate it.**

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She tiptoed through the creaky hallway and slowly, carefully cracked open little Georgie's bedroom door, not daring to breathe, not daring to blink, not daring to let her cotton pajama bottoms drag on his floor or her fingernails scratch the wooden entrance. The house was eerily quiet, it was still dark outside, and Mary felt as if she were the only human awake on the planet. Walking on metaphorical pins and needles, she dipped one foot into the room, eyes not daring to look over at her son. Another exaggerated step with her other foot completed, and she successfully found herself standing in the center of George's tiny bedroom. She felt her dry feet being tickled by the fluffy Kelly green rug adorning his floor. As she turned to ever-so-gently wake her oldest son, she jumped and tripped back onto George's messy pile of Legos and let out a shrill scream, clutching her chest tightly.

"GOOOOOODDDDD MORNING MAMA!" George said in his loudest, most frog-like impression he could muster while splaying his arms out wide. Returning his voice to its normal state, he rambled on, "It's so nice to see you, mama! What took you so long, mama? Where's papa at? Can I has pancakes with chocolate chips for breakfast, mama? MMM MMM! Those're my fav-or-ites! Can we go see the Bigfoot truck today, mama? That's my fav-or-ite pick-up truck! Please! Please! Please!"

"Good grief, Georgie, you 'bout scared your mama half to death! If I'd of known you were already up and rare'in to go, I'd of come in to say hello earlier! Now you gotta pipe down a bit, the twins're still sleepin'. Wanna come help mama get 'em up?"

"Mama—I asked you a question first. Gotta answer me first!" George, Jr.'s hands were planted on his hips and he was giving Mary the evil eye.

"Oh, how silly of me. Well, let's see. Good morning, it's nice to see you too, Georgie." She leant down to give him a big bear hug. Pulling back, hands resting on his shoulders and looking into his eyes, she continued, "It's only 6:02 a.m. sweetie, that's still very early. Your daddy's still sleepin'. For breakfast, you'll have to ask Missy and Shelly if they want pancakes with chocolate chips, too, before I go makin' it. And we cannot go see the Bigfoot truck today; I'm taking you three to your Meemaw's. Doesn't that sound fun?" She gave him a sweet, reassuring smile, hoping he would take all the news well.

"Aww, phooey! I hate askin' them want they want, they always pick stupid stuff!"

"Now George, you gotta be fair. You can't always get want you want. If you ask them nicely, maybe I'll take you to see the big pick-up trucks _next_ weekend." She winked, but inside groaned at herself for falling into the trap of bribery.

"BUT I WANNA GO TODAY! I WANNA SEE THE BIGFOOT TRUCK! HE'S GONNA CRUSH BUNCHES OF CARS, MAMA!" George, Jr. was now positively angry with Mary, hot crocodile tears pooling at his lower eyelids. He began to wail and went on for minutes, Mary struggling to find the sternest, most effective words to use.

"GEORGE. STANLEY. COOPER. JUNIOR. You quit that right now." She pulled away from him, stood up, and pointed a firm finger in his face. "I won't take you at all if you keep actin' up like this. Now come help me wake up the twins…if they're not up already, what with you shoutin' and actin' like a baby. Are you a _baby_, Georgie?"

George, Jr. let out a dramatic sigh and wiped the tears from his face with his chubby fist. "No. I'm five, mama. Not a baby."

"That's what I thought. Let's go."

She took his hand and together they left George, Jr.'s room. Stepping into the hallway again, Mary leant down and holding her index finger in front of her puckered lips, told Georgie to be as quiet as possible. All three of her children were very light sleepers. Reaching the twins' bedroom door, George, Jr. used a little too much force and it slammed again the wall, causing a small hole to form in the drywall.

"George! Be careful and be quiet!"

"Sorry, mama." He looked up at her with enormous, moony eyes, before flashing the sweetest, most pitiful smile he could come up with.

"You're gonna have to tell your father about that, young man. He's not gonna be very happy when he finds out he has to patch up a wall…_again_." A trace of fear could be discerned from Mary's tone, though George, Jr. would never have picked it up.

"But mama…I didn't mean to. Please don't make me tell daddy. Please! It can be our secret, mama…" He winked at Mary at the last statement, and even though she was frustrated with George, she couldn't help but giggle at his tactics.

Meanwhile, the toddlers were rustling in their tiny beds, George's door slamming and pouting rousing them from their sleep.

"George, we'll discuss this later." Turning to Missy and Sheldon, Mary put on her gentlest voice, the most soothing sound for a set of two-year-olds to wake up to. "Good morning, my sweet little pumpkin pies. Time to wake up and start our day." She nudged them both with her hand and leant down to give each one a peck on the forehead.

"Mama!" Missy sat up and threw herself at her mother, giving Mary a big hug, her tangled curly locks tickling Mary's chin. "MWAH!" Missy loudly kissed her mother on the cheek.

"Good mornin', baby doll!" Oh, how she loved these types of greetings in the morning.

"Mommy…", Sheldon sat straight up, rubbed his eyes with his balled fists, and finally opened them to see his mother kneeling before him, waiting expectantly for a hug from him as well.

"Good mornin', Shelly bean! Can your mama get a hug?"

Sheldon wordlessly leant over and wrapped his tiny arms around his mother's neck. Mary caught the scent of baby powder in his ruffled light brown hair, and inhaled it deeply, relishing the fragrance of her baby boy's soft locks under her nose. "Thank you sweetie pie." She smiled at him warmly and after releasing from their embrace and kissing his cheek said, "Your brother has a very important question to ask you two." Beckoning George to come forward and ask his question, Mary said, "C'mon Georgie. Now ask nicely."

George fiddled with his pajama buttons for a while, his head turned down towards the floor. It seemed he would never speak.

"Brodder?" Missy poked George's arm, expecting a response. Sheldon stared at him, waiting to know the reason why his brother was so nervous.

"I want pancakes with chocolate chips for breakfast. Do you—can we—mama help!" George whipped his head towards Mary, pleading with his eyes that she would save him from the misery of spitting out a sentence that would end up being shot down by his little brother and sister anyway.

"George…it's real simple. I know you can do it. Go on."

"I want pancakes with chocolate chips for breakfast. Can—can we—do you want them? Shelly? Missy? Please?! PLEEEASE!" He was now jumping up and down and shouting directly in their faces, drawing out the last "please" with manic desperation; they stared back at him, their eyes bulging from their faces and tiny mouths frozen into an "O" shape.

_Oh, good Lord. It started out so calm…for George._ "George! Stop yellin'! Well Missy, Shelly, whaddya say? How's pancakes with chocolate chips sound for breakfast?"

The twins turned to look at each other at the same time, staring wordlessly for a moment as if reading each other's thoughts, then turned back to Mary and George, Jr. and bobbed their heads up and down silently at the same time. _Oh, how sweet… they never agree, _Mary smiled._ I can't say I blame 'em. Probably just don't want to sit through any more of George's screaming. _

"Well lookie there, Georgie, looks like were havin' pancakes with chocolate chips for breakfast!" Mary grinned sweetly at George, Jr.

"YAHOO!" He began pumping his fists into the air several times, making "UNH!" noises to go along with the action.

_Good grief, he's just like his father_, she thought. "All righty, who needs a lift? Missy?"

"Yes, mama! Up!" Mary hoisted Missy up onto her right hip, and said, "Shelly? What's about you, darlin'?"

"No, mommy, I can walk down the stairs by myself. I don't need your help."

"Well, suit yourself. Let's go!"

"Mama, I wanna lift! Shelly's not, can I?"

"Georgie, you're much too big for that. And you've been walkin' for a long time now; I think you can manage on your own."

"Fine!" George, Jr. huffed obnoxiously and flew down the hallway, stomped down the stairs, and reaching the kitchen table, plopped in his seat and shoved his chin into his little hands. _Shelly's so special, ain't he? _George twisted up his face in part disgust and part jealousy, thinking how his mama, _**his **_mama, always worried about Shelly and loved Shelly so much more than him. Yet another tear fell from his face.

Sheldon was the next to reach the dining room, and seeing this, George, Jr. wiped his eyes with a balled up fist and said to Sheldon, "I hate you! You're stupid! You ruin everything!" He was now shaking with anger, his face as purple as a beet. Sheldon stared at George, blinking rapidly, his lips quivering into a queer wavy shape, and then padded quickly into the kitchen to avoid any more verbal assaults from his older brother.

"GEORGE!" Mary's voice was shrill this time. She'd had it with him. Grabbing him by the arm she said, "What is wrong with you, George?" The way she said his name through gritted teeth made him grimace, and before he could say anything back, she said, "You need to get your act together, boy. Sheldon did nothing wrong! Now you march right over there and tell him you love him and you're sorry. And I expect to see a hug, too!" George continued to sit in his chair, staring into the wooden grain of the table, defying his mother's wishes. Nothing made Mary more upset that not having any sense of control over her children. "George…If you're not over there apologizing in three…" Still clutching Missy on her hip, Mary continued her countdown, "two…" George reluctantly slid off his seat and walked into the kitchen where Sheldon was standing awkwardly by himself, still pouting, arms dangling limply at his sides and his face sticky from tears that had dried. "One…Say it George. I mean it."

"Shelly..." George sighed, poking Sheldon with his index finger, staring down at his short baby brother.

"Leave me alone, Georgie." Sheldon turned his head down, intently inspecting his toes instead of George's eyes.

"Mama, he don't want no apology. He just said so!"

"George, stop makin' excuses. And Shelly, your brother is trying to say he's sorry, please look him in the eye." Sheldon did as he was told, slowly bringing his eyes up to meet his bully of a sibling. George started again.

"Fine…" George and Sheldon glared at each other for a very long awkward moment, neither saying a word. George diverted his eyes from Sheldon's and started twisting his pajama sleeve. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth and he began, once again. "L- love you, Shelly…sorry…" He hurled the words out as fast as he could; he didn't want to dwell on the word "love" or "sorry." He curled up his lip distastefully and drew his arms around Sheldon as uneasily as was fathomable. Sheldon continued to stand there wordlessly, allowing the fake hug but not returning it.

"Whaddya say, Shelly bean?" George finished the hug.

"He is lying, mommy. Georgie doesn't love me and he's not sorry, either."

"Now, Shelly baby, that's not true. He's tryin' to be nice to you; you gotta give him a chance. I wanna hear you say you forgive him, mmkay?"

Sheldon looked from his mother to George, who was wearing a proud smirk, and back to his mom again. She gave him _the look_. That look that only a mother could give and any child would fold under. Sheldon did just that.

"I forgive you, Georgie", he said blankly.

"Atta boy!" Mary ruffled Sheldon's soft hair, and then set Missy down. George and Missy made their way to their seats. Mary stopped before Sheldon could follow, and said, "Now, baby, you okay? Georgie was just upset 'cause he's too big to be held. He doesn't hate you; he loves you, cross my heart. You okay to eat breakfast with him, sweetie pie?" Mary said, fussing over Sheldon, her baby, her special little genius. Sheldon nodded his head, taking Mary's hand, and they began walking into the dining room together. Mary strapped Sheldon and Missy into their booster seats and George took his seat across from where Mary would be sitting. "Now let's get this day started and I don't wanna hear another complaint or outburst from any of you, ya hear? I mean it, for real this time! Not a peep or your not gettin' your special breakfast!"

The three of them bobbed their heads up and down, noting the seriousness in her voice.

When Mary finished in the kitchen, she brought out a platter of steaming hot, sweet pancakes with chocolate chips, thick slabs of bacon, sausage links, Sippy cups of orange juice for the twins, a bigger cup for George, and a mug of coffee for herself. She cut each of their breakfasts into bite-sized pieces and helped them pour their syrup onto their plates. All four of them began to devour their meals in silence, and she was happy to see the first truly peaceful moment of the day right in front of her. She knew these moments were fleeting, so she tried to savor every second of it. _Nothin' brings a family together like food_, she thought with a small smile on her face.

"Guess where mama's takin' you all after breakfast?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows in earnest excitement, hoping the twins' reaction would mirror her own.

"OOH! I KNOW WHERE! CAN I SAY?" George bounced in his seat eagerly.

"Mama gets to tell 'em this one, sugar. You keep eatin' those pancakes." She threw him another wink; she knew how testy George could be, and she'd had enough of him already today to try to endure more battles with him. Her gesture seemed to appease him for the moment, and for that she was so very grateful.

"The museum?" Sheldon inquired hopefully.

"Playground?" Missy asked sweetly.

"I'm taking all three of you to your Meemaw's for the day! Doesn't that sound nice?"

"MEEMAW!" Missy proclaimed excitedly, clapping her chubby hands together.

Sheldon looked up at his mother with joyful eyes and smiled; _genuinely smiled_. He looked almost bashful about it. "That's much better than the museum, mommy."

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**A/N: The Bigfoot pick-up truck was one of the first trucks considered to be a "monster truck", and since this story takes place in 1982 (as of now), the term "monster truck" is unknown and the rallies they are known for today are still in their infancy. I looked it up; I'm not a monster truck rally aficionado. :P Also, for some reason George, Jr. won't go away. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I really enjoyed writing this chapter; hopefully you enjoy reading it. ;)**

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"Alright let's go!" Mary headed out to her and George's car, her children following closely behind like little ducklings. She let George sit in the front with her and strapped Missy and Sheldon into their car seats then got into the driver's seat and turned on the engine.

A ten minute drive later, and they were parked in front of Meemaw's house. Her house was very striking; warm, distinguished, and welcoming, much like Meemaw herself. It was small and white with a wraparound porch, rocking chairs adorning the front, bright, multi-colored mums hanging down in planters above the railing, and an autumnal-themed wreath decorating the front door.

Mary unloaded her children from the car and they ran up to her front door impatiently, but just as they were about to begin knocking, Meemaw swung open her door and said in a tone of mock regret, eyebrows furrowed, "Look, I'm sorry ya'll, but I've found my religion. I 'preciate the fervor ya'll have for your cause, but I have a _wonderful_ relationship with my Jesus Christ." She patted the area over her heart with her wrinkled hand. "I'll take your pamphlet, but don't 'spect me to read it. Sorry again, ya'll. Goodnight and God bless." As she motioned to close her front door, she felt a group of hands stop it, so she opened it once more, looking down at the suspect appendages. Appearing even more baffled this time she exclaimed, "OH! Well look what we have here. Oh, it _is_ a shame Halloween is over, I ran outta candy days ago. And no costumes… tsk, tsk. I'm sorry, ya'll. Goodnight, now, and God bless." She motioned to close the door once more, but she couldn't hold it in any longer. She tried but failed to stifle her laugher. The children didn't try to contain theirs at all; they burst at the seams simultaneously, George, Jr. guffawing and rolling on the porch holding his stomach, Missy giggling with her hands covering her mouth, and Sheldon giggling and smiling in tune with his grandma's hearty chuckling, eyes trained on her, marveling at the woman he so loved and her wonderful sense of humor.

"Hi, mom." Mary smiled and gave her mother a tight hug, so glad to see a loving and reassuring face on a day like today.

"Oh, hi sweetie!" She pecked Mary on the cheek, then let go to kneel down and scoop up Sheldon, who was latched onto her right leg, squeezing tightly with delight on his face.

"Oh, look how big and handsome you're gettin'! Before ya know it, you'll be fallin' in love with a princess and makin' all her storybook dreams come true. I've missed you so much, Moon Pie!" She winked at Sheldon and kissed his cheek before letting him down, adding to Mary, "You sure are blessed with these babies, you know that darlin'?"

Meemaw finished doting over the kids, lifting Missy up, ruffling up George's hair, then led them all inside to her warm and deliciously scented kitchen. As Mary trailed behind her brood, she couldn't erase her mom's last statement out of her head. She felt a sudden heavy feeling, like a brick, weighing down on her chest. It was times like these, watching her mother so effortlessly ease through motherhood and being a grandmother that made Mary feel almost jealous towards her. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was both. Mary vaguely wondered if her mom ever felt that way while raising her. She knew she was blessed; everyone was constantly reminding her of it. Sometimes it made her angry. _Do they not think I know that? Do I look –_

"Mary? I asked if you want some pecan pie, Mary?" Her thoughts were interrupted by Meemaw's question.

"Oh! Sorry, mom, it's been—" She eyed the kids and saw they were distracted by their slices of pie; it was safe to continue, "…it's been a long day already. I'd love a piece. I'll make the coffee." She set off to retrieve the coffee can from the cupboard, but Meemaw stopped her.

"Mary, darlin'. You look like you have somethin' you wanna talk about. Sit down, let me make the coffee."

Mary nodded blankly, the worry starting to surface again. She left the kitchen and sat down in the old sitting room, far from her kids' ears, her hands folded in her lap. She began to pick at her cuticles, stopping only when we noticed blood pooling up from her skin. Did she really want to talk about all her problems with her mom? Would she even understand? Would she judge? What about George…? _Where to even begin with her marriage…_ She stewed on this for what seemed like forever, then looked up to see her mom coming into the sitting room with a tray of coffee, cream, and two slices of pie. Mary pulled out the TV dinner trays and set up their spaces, letting her mom arrange the pies and coffee on each tray. Meemaw glanced over at the children, checking to see that they were still occupied. It seemed George forgot how to use napkins, as there was milk and dried pie filling covering his right sleeve and his upper lip. Missy was picking at her cut up pie pieces, eating the filling and discarding the pecans and crust. Sheldon finished eating his pie with the appropriate gusto and was now playing with his Batman figurine on the carpeted stairs across from the dining room table. Meemaw returned her gaze to her daughter and said, "So, sweetie. What's goin' on in there?" She gestured to Mary's head with a downward tilt of her eyes. "You seem awfully upset…a mama always knows when her baby's upset, and you definitely seem down-n-out 'bout somethin'."

Once again, Mary's head flooded with emotion. She wasn't sure if it was the jealousy, the guilt, the general anger, it was all jumbled together at once and not one distinct feeling was popping up for her to even begin to tell her mom what was going on. _Of course she would say something like that_, Mary thought, unknowingly making Mary feel even worse about herself. So she avoided it altogether. She heaved loudly, picking at her pie the same way Missy was picking at hers. "Nothin' mom. I just didn't get much sleep last night." She plastered on a smile, hoping beyond hope to convince her mom that everything really was okay, that she really was just tired. They looked at each other for awhile, staring into each other's eyes, Mary trying to be convincing, and Meemaw wondering with concern if she should just let it go. She knew everything was _not_ okay, but she also knew she'd get no answers if she kept pushing it. So she let it go. "Well, okay. Do you like this recipe? I made it up myself, and turns out the judges at the Galveston County Fair liked it, too! Blue ribbon, here I'll show ya!" Meemaw hopped up off the couch. She rifled through a box of papers, and then found what she was looking for. "A-ha! Here she is." She was holding a blue fair ribbon and a photograph of herself holding the pie and the ribbon in it.

"Very nice, mom. Do you remember I was the one who took that picture?"

Meemaw looked at Mary, then back at the picture, then back at Mary, before finally saying, "Hmm. Well I'll be! I s'pose you were. I am gettin' up in years, ain't I?" There was a trace of sadness in her words, but it didn't last. Life was too precious to dwell on the things she couldn't control, so she changed the subject again, this time addressing the children.

"Georgie, Moon Pie, Missy…do ya'll wanna help Meemaw with somethin' real fun?"

Sheldon perked up. Meemaw always had fun ideas.

"Who wants to help me polish my silver? My set's gettin' all boogered up. Anyone up for it?"

George became very serious and said, "No, that don't sound fun, Meemaw. Can I go outside and play?"

"Sure, darlin', but go ask your mama first. Missy?"

Missy shook her head, smiling coyly, and then toddled over to Mary, curling in her lap for a nap. "I think that's a no, too." Mary said, a small smile escaping her lips.

"Guess so. How 'bout you sweetheart?" She peered down at Sheldon. "Wanna help your Meemaw out?"

Sheldon walked over to Meemaw's side and reached up to grab her hand. Looking up at her he said, "Yes, please, Meemaw. I will help you. How do I do it?"

Meemaw smiled broadly. Sheldon never turned down the offer to spend time with her, even for something as mundane as polishing silver. "Come with me and I'll show you." She walked him over to her china cabinet and retrieved her silver dining set, complete with knives, spoons, forks, serving utensils, and even treasured plates from her parents. She asked him to pull out a few pieces of polishing cloth and a bottle of polish from the bottom drawer of her cabinet. He did so, and she instructed, "Okay, now lay the cloth over your hand and I'll squeeze some of this paste on it. This is what we'll use to take away the yellow marks on my pretty plates. Let's start with the big pieces. Take that cloth, and go ahead and rub the plate with it in a circular motion…"

As Meemaw and Sheldon were fully engrossed in their activity, Mary watched on silently in amazement. Every time…every time they came to Meemaw's, she and Sheldon bonded over something new, whether it be a PBS special, the inner workings of the train system in Galveston, the planets and the stars, doing puzzles, assisting her with making her sourdough bread… there was always something they needed to tell each other or do together or something to share. Mary tried to shove her resentment away and relish the moment. Sheldon was having the time of his life. He was grinning up at his grandmother with a sparkle in his ocean blue eyes, laughing at her jokes and stories while teaching him to polish her plates.

It's not that she blamed Meemaw for anything; she wasn't trying to steal her baby away from her, she just wished she could relate to Sheldon the way Meemaw did, to have an effortless and understanding relationship with her son that her mother seemed to have so naturally. She aspired to be like her mother in so many ways, ways that she couldn't even begin to count because she didn't have enough appendages, time, or energy. Maybe the difference between them was that her mother had a very happy marriage and a strong partnership. Mary grew up with a mother and a father by her side, caring for her every need, being emotionally available, taking her on trips, to church, helping her make friends, allowing her to flourish and succeed. Mary had George…a man she loved with her whole heart but sometimes questioned the reciprocity of their relationship. It wasn't easy, and that's what bothered her. Her parents had made it look so easy, so flawless. Her issues with George weren't allowing her to open her eyes and see with clarity how much each of her children needed her. Sheldon was so at ease with Meemaw, and Mary wanted that type of relationship with her son as well. She wanted it desperately. She wanted him to be able to do a mundane activity with her and enjoy it. She wanted to be interested in all the things he was interested in, to share his curiosities and spark new ones.

It was then she became angry with herself. She gently slid Missy off her lap and bolted forward from the couch, punching her kneecaps with her fists. _Damn it, I'm tired of this. I already went through this earlier this morning…Why am I moping? Just bring it up with mom…I just need something. Some sort of answer…or at least someone to complain to. I can't go on like this anymore…it's been almost three years._

Meemaw and Sheldon both turned towards the punching sound. They saw Mary sitting forward on the couch, looking very distraught, fists clenched on her thighs. Sheldon looked up at Meemaw with concern in his large and curious eyes. "Meemaw, is mommy okay?"

Meemaw gazed down at her grandson, opened her mouth to speak, and then snapped it shut again. She glanced over at Mary, then back down to Sheldon and replied, "You know what, you finish this set of plates here, Meemaw's gonna go sit with your mommy. Now be a good boy for Meemaw, mmkay?"

Sheldon once again looked up at Meemaw and nodded his head sincerely, as if this task was a serious undertaking not to be taken lightly. "Yes, Meemaw." He continued polishing each plate, making the circular motions with his tiny little fingers, happy to keep busy with the assignment he was given.

As Meemaw began walking towards Mary, she prayed that she would be able to find the right words to help her daughter in whatever way was necessary. As a mother, it was never pleasant knowing your child was suffering in any way, and Meemaw needed to see that her Mary was okay. She needed to be reassured of that. "Mary…" She touched her shoulder gently with the palm of her hand.

Mary didn't look up at her mom. She rubbed her face vigorously in her hands and groaned, her heart palpitating unevenly. "Upstairs, please." Mary replied anxiously.

Without another word, Meemaw put her arm around Mary as they walked upstairs together to eventually reach the spare bedroom.

"Mary, sweetheart, what's goin' on? You've been actin' funny today…well, lately in general really. For a while I've been noticin' it, but I never wanted to bring it up on my own. You're a grown woman, that's your job now. Earlier when you said you were just tired…you lied to me, didn't you? I can see your walls breakin' down, sweetie. So what's happenin' inside there?" She gestured to the area of Mary's chest where her heart was stationed.

"Mom…" Mary started shakily. She felt so weak at this point; her body was shivering as if she were inside an igloo with no clothes on. Maybe this was the beginning of a panic attack.

"Go on, baby."

"I'm just so pathetic. I don't want you to tell me I'm just havin' a pity party, either."

"Mary! Why would I say that?" Meemaw looked affronted.

"That's what George says." Mary replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What? What are you talkin' about? He's not hittin' you, is he?"

"Mom, no! Of course not. Mom…can I trust you that the things I tell you, you won't tell a soul, not Dad's grave, not those ladies in your prayer group, not anyone?" Mary eyed her mother with sadness and wariness, and they were glassy from the tears that threatened to escape.

Meemaw just stared at Mary with fear in her eyes, worry plaguing her heart. She didn't know what Mary was going on about, but she needed to know. She nodded, more nervous than ever. "Of course, Mary."

Mary sighed heavily, and then began. "Mom, I'm …unhappy." It was hard…very, very difficult…to say that word out loud, to hear the word "unhappy" forming on her lips. She felt filthy for even uttering it. She looked over at her mom, anxious for her reaction. There was none; just eyes filled with love and… maybe hope? She wasn't sure, so she continued, eyes cast downward on her lap. "Things changed when the twins were born. I thought George wanted a big family, I thought he was ready for it. He was so caring and…" She paused, embarrassed at her next choice of words, "intimate… with me before they came along, even when I was pregnant, he never left. He was so protective of me, and treated Georgie so well. They were best buddies. Somethin's changed in him mom. He doesn't care anymore. He's barely home. Sometimes Missy forgets who he is and gets scared." Her voice became high-pitched, and she squeaked the last sentence. She started bawling. She buried her face in her hands and cried, not even trying to be quiet. Her sobs were very ugly sounding, guttural and heaving. Meemaw put her right arm around her daughter and squeezed her closer to her. "Shh…Mary, sweetie. It's okay, baby. It's okay." She started stroking her grown daughter's hair, letting her head rest against her shoulder, not bothered by the ocean of tears being deposited onto her dress. "Let it out, honey. I'm here for you. You don't have to say anymore if you don't want to."

Meemaw's words seemed to soothe Mary a bit, and after a few more choked sobs and wiping of tears, she continued, talking quietly into her lap. "I just, I don't know what to do. I love George, he's my husband, the father of my children. Sometimes I don't think he loves me back, though." Mary thought back to George's drunken behavior that morning, and her whole body twitched involuntarily.

"Oh, Mary…I know George loves you, but I won't pretend that you don't deserve better. You're my baby girl, you deserve the world. You've got so many blessings in this world. You've got Georgie. He's not the brightest, but he's enthusiastic about everything, and he loves you more than you realize even though I know you're constantly battlin' him for somethin' or another. You've got little Missy, that baby girl I know you've always wanted. She's gentle, curious, and adores her brothers so much. You've got my Moon Pie, your little Shelly bean. Mary, you've got a little genius in your hands with that one. He's gonna find a cure for cancer someday, or build rockets, or figure out a way to go back in time!" She giggled a very girlish giggle at that thought. "Mary, he's somethin' special. And he loves his you more than anything in this whole wide world. You've got so many things to be happy about, to be thankful for, if you only look in the right place."

Mary looked at her mom and said, "Sheldon…he doesn't act the same around me. Does he talk about me when you two are, you know, hangin' out? How do you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The way you two are, it's like you're his best friend. He's so quiet around me, so, I don't know, inside himself. He never wants to play with Georgie, or even Missy. Then other times he sticks to my side like he thinks I'm gonna leave him forever or somethin'. But then every time he's here he's smiling and chatty and, I don't know… happy…I just don't know how you do it. It makes me feel like I'm failing him, mom. Does he ever talk about his mommy the way her talks about you?"

"Oh, baby…of course he does. Like I said, he loves you more than anything. You're his mommy. No one can take that away from you. And I can assure you with certainty, that boy will _always_ need you. You're a constant in his world, the one thing that never changes, never wavers. His friends will come and go, his interests will change 4,000 times by the time he's Georgie's age, and I'll even be gone from this Earth before long. But Mary, you are his mother. He wakes up to you every single morning, you're the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep at night. I don't know why he's so quiet, so on and off, I can't answer that one, maybe it's just a phase. But I can tell you that he loves you, and that he's probably thinking about you right now, wonderin' if you're okay. He really is brilliant…and surprisingly intuitive for his age. You've just gotta be there for him, tell him stories, take an active interest in what he's telling you. And _always_ praise him. Let him be independent when he wants to be a little Einstein, but cuddle him and fuss over him when he wants to be a two-year-old. He's interestin' like that. You're not always gonna win with him, sweetie. Sometimes he might want nothin' to do with you; he'll tell you he's a big boy and that he doesn't need you. But you can't take that to heart…like I said, he's your baby boy, and no matter what goes on in his world, he will always love you and always need you. "

Mary had hot tears falling from her face, but this time they were calm. She felt guilty and selfish. "I don't want them to worry about me, mom. But I'm just havin' a hard time keepin' my cryin' to myself. I want to be strong for them; like you are for me. You always have an answer for everything…even if I don't wanna hear it, you tell me anyway, and then everything's okay eventually. How can I make things okay? I'm s'posed to be the one worryin' after them, not the other way around. How can I make my marriage work and be a perfect mom at the same time? I love them more than anything in this entire universe. They're the reason I get out of bed in the morning…." Mary was talking fast now, thinking out loud. She needed this. She really needed to come here today; to vent to her mother, the person who would always listen, with minimal judgment and free pie.

"Mary, listen now. No one can or will ever be perfect, at anything. We're all sinners, and we all make mistakes. Gosh, the other day, I stole the coupon section from the newspaper stand without gettin' an actual paper…I felt horrible, but who wants to spend all that money if I'm just needin' the one section anyway? It was kinda thrilling, though…" Meemaw looked shocked but giddy at her revelation.

Mary looked up, one eyebrow raised, and glared questioningly at her mom. Meemaw stared back and replied, "Sorry…bad example, I s'pose. Look, I pray everyday for you and your marriage, and for my beautiful grandbabies. The Lord has blessed you in ways greater than you can see. It's easy to take things like that for granted, when you're so used to somethin' for so long, and it's not always as ideal as you'd like it to be…it becomes too easy to blame God, or yourself, or everyone else." Meemaw paused in her thoughts, and then continued on. She had an idea, and she crossed her fingers that Mary would go for it. "Sweetie, when's the last time you closed your eyes, clasped your hands together, and prayed like your father and I taught you to when you were young?"

Mary gave her mother a sidelong, uncertain look. "Not since…middle school I guess."

"Would you like to pray with me right now? I think we've got some stuff to ask our Lord and Savior 'bout."

Mary felt she'd run out of alternatives, and with her mind and body drained from so much emotional and physical distress, she thought maybe closing her eyes for a few minutes would do herself some good. "Um…sure. Will you do all the talkin'? I haven't done this in awhile."

Meemaw patted Mary reassuringly on her shoulder. "Sure, honey."

They both closed their eyes and folded their hands together on each of their laps. Meemaw peeked over at Mary to make sure she was complying. She grabbed Mary's hands in hers, squeezed tight, then began. "Dear Heavenly Father, we've come to you on this blessed day to ask for your comforting arms around Mary here. She's in despair and needs Your loving guidance more than ever. Please hear her cries, O, Lord. Let her never forget that she is greatly loved by You, Your unfailing love steering her throughout her days like a compass at sea. Help guide her through her marriage, dear Lord, let her come to you as refuge when she is feeling like the world is against her; because we know You are _for_ her dear Lord, and will never forsake her."

At that moment, Mary re-opened her eyes and turned to look at her mother, her eyes shut and mind seemingly buzzing with prayer requests. All Mary could do was gape in uncertainty and awe the rest of way through.

"Lord please help her to be patient, to always look for the positive, to give to her husband and her children selflessly, to find comfort in her family, to spend time loving each of her children individually and the way they deserve. I know my daughter is struggling right now, I can see it in her eyes; I can feel it down to her soul. Lord, please stop her pain. She deserves happiness; she deserves to laugh everyday, to find joy in the little things. Lord, please also watch over George, he needs You very, very much. Help him to see how fortunate he is to have Mary and his children; please help him understand that he needs this life. He needs _You_. May they never lose faith in You, and always hope for their future together. May they seek refuge in each other, but especially You, dear God, and may they always, _always_ learn to forgive each other for the things they may say or do to hurt one another. Bless them with peace and happiness in their union, dear Lord. Lord, please also continue to help their children flourish and grow, let them be individuals, and never them feel hindered from attaining their dreams or their futures. I ask that You watch over Mary and George, George, Jr., Missy, and Sheldon, and comfort them, let them come to You, please help them find You, bow to You, and live by Your Word everyday, that they may eventually know with certainty how important they are to You and Your plan for their lives. Thank You Father. Please forgive us all our sins. In Jesus' name we pray, Amen."

When Meemaw finished her prayer, she unclasped their intertwined hands, not before squeezing Mary's one more time, and then opened her eyes to look at Mary. Mary's eyes were still on her mother. Meemaw pat Mary on her thigh and said with a look of concern, "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Mary looked at Meemaw, more childlike than she'd seen her in a long time. "What if it doesn't work?" Mary asked shyly.

"Oh, sweetie, He's not a genie. You can't ask for the world and it will be given. The important thing to remember is to always have faith. Never lose hope or give up, Mary. I promise you, things will get better. I wouldn't know who to take all my troubles to if I didn't have the Lord to talk to everyday. He helps me get through so many things, even simple things. Don't ever think you're alone, Mary. He's always here, listenin' to your troubles, even if you're not sayin' them out loud."

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you." Mary looked her mom full in the face and smiled weakly at her, then scooted in closer for a hug.

"Oh, Mary, that's what I'm here for. I love you so much, honey." She hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead. "Now how 'bout you take those kids home and relax for a while, mmkay? In fact, I believe I have a casserole in the freezer you can heat up for dinner so you don't have to cook!" Meemaw beamed at her daughter, waiting for her response.

Mary smiled into her lap, and then looked back up at her mother's calm face and replied, "I'd like that. Thank you so much mom. I'll get the kids ready." With that, they walked downstairs together, and soon reached the dining room to see Sheldon finishing polishing every piece of silver that was laid out on the table. "Look, mommy, look, Meemaw, I polished these all by myself!" Mary smiled and went over to her son's project, picking up a polished spoon to inspect. "Shelly, these look marvelous! Good job, baby!" She scooped him up into a hug before he could object. "I love you so much, Sheldon Lee Cooper!" She kissed him loudly on his forehead.

Sheldon pulled back from her random burst of affection and started playing with the buttons on her blouse, then replied, "Love you too, mommy." He then looked up at her and smiled bashfully.

Meemaw grinned at Mary, still clutching her son, and said with a wink, "Told ya so."

While preparing herself for bed that night, Mary couldn't stop replaying the day's events out in her head. It had been by and large one of the most exhausting days of her life. She woke up startled and upset, had one of the most unromantic sessions of intercourse of her entire six year marriage, battled with George, Jr. for a various number of reasons, felt jealous and bitter towards her own mother, the woman who never deserved that type of resentment, and she prayed…well, her mother prayed, but Mary listened. She hadn't given Christianity a second thought since middle school; it just never seemed important enough in high school and beyond…she was preoccupied with so many other things. She stood in the middle of her room with only one lamp to prevent it from total blackness. She was staring into space, her arms folded, clutching the shoulder areas of her t-shirt. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute and her body was shaking slightly. She knew what she needed to do, and she was scared. Petrified was more like it. She bent down and clasped her hand over the brushed metal handle, then closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she opened it. Rummaging through her old oak hope chest, she pulled out the book and dusted off the cracked leather cover. Frowning with skepticism, her mind clouded by doubt and worry, she read the title. Embossed in gold lettering it read: **HOLY BIBLE: New International Version**. She opened it to the first page and began reading.


End file.
